Because
by Satan Abraham
Summary: "Why?" "Because I like you, Roger!" Rogice. Modern day AU.


"Hey Roger," Maurice said, jumping down the last few steps of the school and landing beside Roger. "What are you doing tonight?"

Roger gave him a weird look and hurried away, throwing his hood up for good measure. Maurice sighed and glanced around. Nope. Nobody else he felt like talking to – or, as they always called it 'pestering.' He figured he'd probably just head home and go on the internet. He seemed to spend a lot of time on the internet lately, he realized. It wasn't like he ever had enough homework to distract him, and if he ever did have any, he could just fit it in right before school. His parents were always busy – sure, they were there, but they weren't really _there. _Maurice was alone most of the time, and he didn't like it.

But he dealt with it. He could deal with it, he'd dealt with being alone for as long as he could remember.

He felt like going to get some ice cream. Winter or not, he wanted ice cream. He pulled his coat back on and set off on the long trek to the good gas station – the one that had ice cream year round. Maurice hoped that they had cookie dough.

By the time he got there, he was covered with snow and freezing cold. It was snowing pretty hard – it wasn't windy enough to be considered a blizzard, and he could mostly see, but the snow had grown from one inch to three inches deep.

Inside the gas station was none other than Roger, sitting down at one of the tables and having his own ice cream cone – it looked very chocolate-y and nice. Maurice decided to get his ice cream before bothering him.

Ooh, they did have cookie dough!

"Uh, triple scoop cookie dough, please," Maurice said, smiling at the nearly emotionless attendant. The guy rolled his eyes and handed over the ice cream. Maurice, making sure that his ice cream didn't fall over, plopped down beside Roger and scooted as close to him as was possible.

Roger glanced at him and scooted away.

This began a game of 'Roger running away and Maurice chasing him, all while trying to not spill the ice cream.' It ended with the two of them sitting across from them, Roger still not looking pleased with this arrangement, but Maurice had hooked his feet around Roger's ankles and was using his longer legs to his advantage.

"Why are you here?" Roger asked. He was slightly red, from the physical activity or the physical contact, Maurice didn't know which.

"I just wanted some ice cream," Maurice said, shrugging and taking a lick of his ice cream. "Can I have a taste of yours –"

"Uh-"

Maurice switched the cones around and tasted Roger's. It was really quite chocolate-y. "Say, Roger," Maurice said between licks of his cone and Roger's, who he had basically just stolen. Roger looked mournfully at his lost cone and took a stick of beef jerky out of his coat pocket. "Can I sleep over at your house tonight?"

"Why?" Roger asked, looking even more freaked out than he originally had.

"Because I like you, Roger!" Maurice said, grinning and handing back the cone. Roger turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Okay," he muttered. Maurice grinned again.

After finishing their ice cream, the two headed off into the storm. Maurice hooked his arm around Roger's waist so that a) they wouldn't lose each other in the snow and b) he could make Roger slightly uncomfortable.

Roger's house was completely empty. Roger twisted away from Maurice almost as soon as they entered. "Where are your parents?" Maurice asked, glancing around. Roger shrugged.

"Probably working," was all he said. He was surprisingly reserved. "What about you? Do you need to call them or something?"

"Nah," Maurice said. "They don't care."

"Oh," Roger said.

It was incredibly awkward after that, the both of them standing in Roger's kitchen, snow dripping off of their clothes and falling to the floor.

"If you want to take a shower and borrow some clothes or something, you can," Roger muttered. He was really, _really_ quiet. Maurice had thought he didn't talk at school because he didn't want to interact with teachers and peers, but maybe he was just a quiet person. "I, uh, have video games if you want."

Maurice smiled at him and went to go take a shower. Roger's bathroom was very nice – a shower/bath combination with lots of shampoos and other soaps to choose from. He spent about ten minutes coating the bottom of the shower with bubble bath so that when the water from the shower hit it it would be all nice and bubbly.

It worked fantastically. Maurice had a lot of fun in Roger's shower, and, once the water started to go cold, wrapped a towel around his waist and went on a search for clothes.

Roger was sitting crosslegged on his bed, playing some violent video game that Maurice didn't know the name of. He didn't glance up, and Maurice debated going over there and hugging him. He decided against this when Roger blew some guy's head off.

Eventually, Roger died and noticed Maurice standing there. He turned red again. "Uh, there are clothes in the closet," he said, speaking to his video game controller. "I have a lot of shirts that are way too big for me."

"Okay!" Maurice chirped, and got dressed in his own underwear and Roger's gigantic Distrubed t-shirt. "You really like all of this weird, creepy stuff, don't you?"

Roger, who had restarted his game, gave him the barest of nods. He looked absolutely adorable, leaning toward the TV slightly, the tip of his tongue sticking out of a corner of his mouth.

"Do you have any good horror movies? Or Netflix?" Maurice babbled. He grabbed the blanket from Roger's bed and wrapped himself up in it. Roger glanced at him and shrugged.

"We've got Netflix – shit," Roger muttered the last part. He'd died again.

"This is going to be a fun night, I can tell," Maurice said, grinning at Roger. Roger managed a grimace.

* * *

**I don't really know what this is but whatever. :D**


End file.
